


Where Flattery Gets You

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Series: Intermissions [6]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: During or Post Canon, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Gift Giving, Whipping Implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: Zagreus has a present for Megaera.
Relationships: Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Intermissions [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657159
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88





	Where Flattery Gets You

**Author's Note:**

> the world needs more fluffy painplay that's my opinion

He claims his chambers are due for an inspection, and then, as if to head off her teasing show of deliberating over whether to give him what he wants, says, “There’s something in particular I want you to inspect.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Did an especially good job of cleaning this time, did you?”

“That is definitely what I mean,” he says, his voice richly facetious.

She’s not particularly in the mood, but he _does_ seem to have some specific reason for the request and that makes her curious, so she goes with him. Even so, she isn’t expecting him to offer her a bundle wrapped in thin red fabric.

“This is for you,” he says, nervousness obvious in his voice, and Megaera accepts the bundle from him with a curious glance and unfolds the cloth wrapping.

It’s a whip.

A snake whip, specifically, flexible from the round, sturdy knot at one end to its narrow tip. Ten feet in length, it is made of leather in the vibrant pink she favors, and unadorned other than the intricacy of the knot.

“I hope the lack of handle is all right,” Zagreus frets. “I know most of yours have handles, but Mr. Amosis said those were harder to make, and this one took me six tries as it is, and—”

“Wait,” she interrupts him, a sudden flush spreading up the back of her neck. “You made this.”

“Yes?” he answers, surprised that she’s surprised. “Please don’t ask about the first five attempts, they were… less impressive.”

“You made this for me, and you tried six times until you got it right.”

“Well, I mean, I know that the quality of your things is important to you, especially when it comes to your tools, so… I had to make sure it was decent. I didn’t want to give you something beneath your standards.”

Megaera drops her eyes to the lash again. But no, even knowing this, she can’t see any signs that an amateur like Zagreus plaited it. It’s fine work, as flawless as Amosis’s, and he’s been supplying her tools for aeons. Megaera feels down the whip, fingers searching for the places where the lash gradually narrows—potential weak spots in the construction. But the tightness of the braiding doesn’t falter, even there. It’s incredible. And Megaera has never felt so pleasantly embarrassed, so far beyond flattered. She feels warm and loved. What a feeling for him to spring on her without forewarning, the little brat.

Her stunned delight must not show on her face, because Zag shifts from one foot to the other, hopeful anxiety in his face. “So… do you like it?” he prompts.

She doesn’t answer right away, instead bending the lash near the knot to test the flexibility there. Casually, she says, “I’m not sure. I’d have to try it out first.”

“Oh—” A whiff of disappointment in his voice first, until she lifts her gaze with a raise of one eyebrow. Then he catches on. “ _Oh_. Might I make a suggestion for your first victim?”

She rolls her eyes. “Wipe that smirk off your face, Zagreus, and take off your clothes for me.”

Which only makes his smirk grow as he reaches down to remove his greaves. “Well, I’ll undress,” he says airily, unlacing his leggings, “but I think, in this case, that wiping the smirk off my face is _your_ job—”

With an easy flick of her wrist, she cracks the whip only inches from his ear. The lash is responsive, springy, balanced; the sound splits the air. Startled with one leg in and one leg out of his leggings, Zagreus stumbles, hopping in place and then laughing as he catches himself. His smirk is gone, replaced with a pleasingly jumpy sort of grin.

“—And you are phenomenal at your job, has anyone ever told you that, Meg?”

“Hmm.” She cradles the knot at the butt of the whip in her palm, content with the way it fits there and the control she can feel it extend through the length of the lash. “I don’t get many compliments in my line of work,” she admits sardonically.

“Well, you should, because you are very good at what you do. And if I have to be the one to say it, then I will; I’ll say it over and over—”

She steps forward and seizes him by the belt. “You’ll get yourself ready for me is what you’ll do, Zagreus,” she says, through a teeth-gritted grin, and yanks the belt off him.

He laughs again as he sheds his chiton. He’s too pleased with himself to slip away like he usually does, too happy to go cowed and quiet; and she still isn’t _really_ in the mood. But that’s all right. He’s earned himself some thanks, and Megaera can still work with this. She shoves him against the wall once he’s naked, left arm across the back of his shoulders, whip doubled up in her right hand so that she can trace the loop of it down his spine.

“Five rough drafts, and then this, huh?” she murmurs in his ear. “And I bet you were thinking the whole time about what it would feel like.”

“The _whole_ time,” he affirms with a chuckle, resting his forehead against the wall.

“ _Tsch_. What kind of gift is it if you get as much out of it as I do?”

“Oh, a very selfish one, I suppose.” But he’s realized already that she likes it and doesn’t rush to apologize for his self-serving action. For once. Megaera smirks, so utterly fond of this man.

“You’re going to enjoy this, Zag,” she promises him in a low voice, and then she steps back to give her new whip a try.

And it turns out that she likes it very much.

His back is a heated red and her heart is thumping with exertion by the time she’s finished with him. Still, she hasn’t pressed him particularly hard. When she puts the whip aside and runs her fingers through his hair, he hums, present and content.

“What’s the verdict, then?” he asks, smiling. “You like it?”

She twists a lock of his hair around one finger, then takes his chin and guides him into a kiss, slow and deep. When she breaks it, she smiles back at him—not smirks, not sneers, but simply smiles.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”


End file.
